Tidings of Discomfort and Joy
by idearlylovealaugh
Summary: Christmas Eve dinner with your girlfriend's family is hard enough without spending half your time imagining muggle ways her father could kill you. But Ron Weasley can't help feeling like Dr. Granger can tell if they've been naughty or nice.


_A/N: This very silly story was written for jenahid as part of the Romione Secret Santa Exchange on tumblr. I'm certainly not JKR, who I'm sure would give a much better gift._

The problem was not that Ron had never met Hermione's parents before.

Ron had met the Drs. Granger several times, in fact. There had been the annual, somewhat awkward nods at Platform 9 3/4 at the end of most school years. There had been the terrifying introduction as Hermione's boyfriend, although the chaos that accompanied the return of their memories and the reunion with their daughter and all the explanations required by both situations had tended to overshadow that particular announcement. He had even had dinner with them once or twice over the course of the summer; relatively formal affairs compared to dinners at the Burrow, but occasions from which he had generally felt he had escaped unscathed.

No, the problem was that was all BS.

Before Shagging, that is.

The incontrovertible fact was that all those interactions occurred before he had carnal knowledge of Hermione (or anyone else for that matter). And somehow the fact that he now _did_ had turned him into a paranoid, bumbling idiot that any parent would rightly regard with horror as a potential partner for their offspring.

Ron swore he could feel Hermione's father's eyes boring into him since the moment he had arrived at the Grangers' festive-yet-tastefully decorated home, scrutinizing the byplay between Ron and his daughter. This led to an extremely self-conscious Ron greeting a rather crestfallen Hermione with an awkward wave instead of the expected hug, and things had gone downhill from there. He imagined the Grangers' watching him as he was introduced to the few members of Hermione's extended family, as if they could tell just from looking at him that he had seen their daughter naked. Even worse, his guilty conscience made everything seem like a thinly veiled reference to their sexually-active status. He had nearly choked on a vol-au-vent when Hermione's aunt had laughingly asked her when she had become a woman, before realizing that this woman hadn't seen Hermione since she was a young girl.

It was hard enough to navigate Christmas Eve dinner with your girlfriend's parents, who are still wary of your magical world, and her extended family, who can't know anything about it, without spending half the time imagining muggle ways her father could kill you.

Which is why he was currently sitting in the lounge as far from Hermione as possible, clutching a glass of sherry and hoping to Merlin he could make it through dinner without confirming her parents' worst fears about him. Ron didn't dare touch Hermione in front of her family. Which was bloody difficult because she looked so good, and they had been apart so long. He was apparating back to the Burrow after dinner - regrettably without Hermione, who was spending Christmas Day with her parents and joining the Weasleys on Boxing Day, but he was trying not to think about that. After only seeing her a few times since she returned to Hogwarts, he wanted nothing more than to disapparate with her to somewhere private; somewhere they could be alone, and talk, and hold each other, and possibly recreate some of the more fantastic moments in their still relatively new-yet-spectacular physical relationship... but he really couldn't let his mind go there. He just felt like Hermione's parents could read his thoughts - his very randy thoughts - especially her...

"FATHER."

Ron started violently, almost falling off the couch. He looked quickly at Hermione's mum sitting next to him, whose voice close by his ear had snapped him out of his thoughts. "Sorry?" he said weakly.

"I was just asking if you were all ready for a visit from Father Christmas," Jean Granger replied, looking uncertain. "Unless of course, that's not a tradition for your... your family," she added, lowering her voice. "I just assumed... I don't mean to imply that magic is childish, or..."

"No, no, we have Father Christmas," Ron interrupted hastily, glancing around. "With the reindeer and the, uh, tangerines and everything." He avoided Hermione's eyes, which he knew were sure to be sending him a clear _what is your problem?_ "'Scuse me, I'm just going to get a glass of water," he said, standing quickly and making for the kitchen.

 _Just keep it together, mate_ , he told himself as he walked down the hallway, trying to reassure his frayed nerves. _No one is thinking about this but you._

"I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind holding those buns."

Ron froze as Hermione's father and grandmother looked at him expectantly. "What?" he squawked in a horrified voice.

"I've really got my hands full with this ham. Would you be so kind as to take these into the dining room?" David Granger replied, indicating the savory Bath buns that Hermione's grandmother had just nestled into a linen-lined basket.

"Sure, I mean, of course," Ron stuttered, grabbing the basket out of her hands in his haste. He darted through the kitchen door, nearly colliding with Hermione. She looked at him in surprise as he brushed by her, ears burning. He dropped the basket rather unceremoniously on the immaculately set table and made good his escape to the first floor bath in the rear of the house before Hermione's aunt, who was laying the last of the silverware, could say anything that could be remotely construed as suggestive.

He sagged against the bathroom door as it shut and sighed. Heaving himself upright, he crossed to the toilet and flipped up the lid. This night was turning out to be agony, but the end was in sight. He just had to make it through dinner and dessert without completely embarrassing himself and being forbidden from ever seeing Hermione again. _Well_ , he thought, thanking Merlin for small favors as he unzipped his trousers, _at least they weren't serving spotted dick_.

 **POP**

Ron jumped and whirled around at the loud sound of someone apparating directly behind him, crossing his hands protectively over his crotch. "Bloody buggering hell, Hermione!" he hissed loudly at his girlfriend, watching as she waved her wand a few times at the door to lock and silence it before turning to him with crossed arms and a scowl. "What are you doing?!"

"What are _you_ doing? You've been acting strange all evening! You've jumped every time my father walks into the room, and now my mother thinks she's offended you by 'infantilizing magic' or some such nonsense."

Ron groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry, OK?! I'm just a little nervous around them. I want to make a good impression."

Hermione snorted, clearly knowing as well as he how spectacularly he was failing at doing so thus far. "You've met my parents before, and you weren't acting nearly this bizarre!"

Ron's mind raced. He felt stupid telling her the real reason he was so on edge, but he also hated lying to her (not to mention, he was pretty rubbish at it). "I know," he finally replied, dropping his eyes. "It's just that it's our first holiday, you know, together. I just want everything to go well with our families." It was the truth, if not the _whole_ truth.

Ron dared a glance at Hermione and saw her face soften. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be so hard on you," she said with a sigh. Relieved, Ron opened his arms and she walked into them, wrapping her arms around his waist. "I've been a little nervous too. And I miss you," she added, her words muffled by his chest.

Ron hummed his agreement, happy to have her in his arms. He relished the quiet moment: her bushy hair tickling his chin, her heart beating against his chest, her hands sliding around to the front of his trousers... _wait, what?!_

"What are you doing?" he spluttered for the second time, gripping her shoulders and pulling back to look at her.

"Well, since you've taken my part and worked yourself into a state with worry, I thought I'd take your part and apply a very Ron Weasley-like solution to the problem," she replied with a mischievous smile on her face, slipping her hand inside his pants.

"But that's the whole problem!" he cried, stepping back and cupping his hands over his crotch again. He cringed as he saw the hurt flash across her face.

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it was a problem!" she shrilled, snatching her hands back in turn and wrapping her arms around herself tightly. "I'm sorry I don't have more... more... _experience_ , but..."

"No, no, no!" he interrupted frantically. "It's not you, it's..."

"Oh, 'It's not you _,_ it's me,' I feel _so_ much better," she shot back in a choked voice, glaring violently at the shower stall beside her.

"Hermione, _listen_ ," he pleaded, cutting her off again. She looked back at him and he was pained to see that she looked close to tears. "It's nothing to do with that. Except it is. I mean..." he sighed, raking his hands through his hair. "It's because of your parents. It's just that it's the first time I've seen them since we've, you know, been together," he explained, looking at her meaningfully.

"No, I don't know," she said obstinately, still looking upset. "It's _not_ the first time since we've been together. There was Australia, _and_ you came over for dinner this summer."

"No, it's the first time I've seen them since we've been _together_ together. Back then we hadn't, well..." he trailed off, feeling slightly foolish.

Hermione's mouth dropped open as everything clicked into place. "Are you telling me you've barely been able to string two words together in front of my parents because we've had sex?!" she hissed in disbelief. "That is absolutely ridiculous, Ron! Well, I guess this explains why you haven't so much as held my hand since you've gotten here!"

"Look, it's really awkward!" Ron answered defensively. "I mean, of course I bloody well want to touch you and kiss you, but they'll probably think... and you're their only daughter, obviously, and... I _know_ your dad is thinking about it every time he looks at me, I just know it!"

Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Ron, they're adults - as are we, in case you've forgotten. We're not doing anything wrong and we don't have to feel guilty."

"Right, I shouldn't feel guilty when to them, I'm the one that... that... took their daughter's innocence!" Ron scoffed.

"Oh, that is such a sexist, paternalistic way of looking at it!" Hermione huffed.

Ron snorted. "OK, let's just remember this conversation when it's _our_ daughter dating some bloke," he scoffed.

They both froze. " _Our_ daughter?" Hermione asked quietly.

"You know what I mean," Ron blustered, feeling his face heat up as he aggressively toed the bath mat with his shoe. By the small smile on Hermione's face, he rather thought she did.

Hermione stepped toward him again, grabbing his hands. She looked up at him until he met her gaze.

"I'm not ashamed of any part of our relationship," she said, drawing a deep breath. "Nor do I regret anything we've done together. Do you?"

"'Course not," came his immediate answer. "I just don't want to give your parents another ruddy reason to disapprove of me," he muttered.

"Ron, they _don't_ disapprove of you," she replied steadily. "It's true, there's things about the magical world that still make them feel... uneasy. But they're trying, they honestly are. They _wanted_ you to be here tonight, with our family. They know how happy you make me," she added, reddening slightly.

"Yeah?" he questioned with a small grin, starting to feel a bit lighter.

"Yes," she answered exaggeratedly. "And I've no doubt that the more they get to know you, the more they'll like you for who you are, too. That's _if_ you can manage to calm down and act like yourself." She shook her head. "I really do think you're blowing this way out of proportion. They want me to be happy and safe and as they can see that I am, I'm fairly certain they're content to ignore the intimate part of our relationship."

Ron snorted. "I guess I'm just used to a mum who has never been content to ignore anything, ever, when it comes to her kid's relationships."

"That has it's positives and negatives," she allowed, resting the side of her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her again. There were a few moments of silence before she began tentatively, "So, it's really not because I'm not any good at..."

"NO! No," Ron said hurriedly. "You're brilliant at it, actually," he continued, as they traded shy smiles. "I wish like hell you could show me right now, but there's literally no way I could face your parents across the dinner table if you got me off in their loo."

Hermione wrinkled her nose at his blunt language, but laughed. "Alright, I'll humor you this once, if you promise to relax," she added. "We'll save the rest for later tonight."

"Later?" He asked, confused. "I know you want us to be mature adults about this and everything, but I really don't think your parents are going to be OK with us excusing ourselves from the table to go shag."

Hermione smiled and shook her head dismissively. "No, later when I apparate into your bedroom at midnight," she said, smoothing her hands down the front of his shirt. "I refuse to not spend any part of Christmas Day with you this year." She gazed up at him through her eyelashes. "And I suggest you make sure Harry has alternate sleeping arrangements."

His eyes lit up with happiness and as he lowered his face to hers, he decided he could endure an eternity of awkward dinners and possible dental torture at the hands of her parents just to kiss her like this on Christmas Eve.


End file.
